


i just needed someone around

by butiwaswildonce



Series: Are you getting away with who you’re trying to be [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, House Party, Oral Sex, Smut, porn with a sprinkling of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 19:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21104528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butiwaswildonce/pseuds/butiwaswildonce
Summary: Betty’s introduction to the Serpents.Or, Toni Topaz and Betty Cooper dance to 90s hiphop and everything is okay.*Picks up about a month after are you getting away (with who you’re trying to be) ends.





	i just needed someone around

**Author's Note:**

> (See end notes for warnings)
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/crawledoutofthesea12/playlist/0cwefIHqEZsjOAN9Setqz2?si=Lmfai7T2SlufsQ_Kw-dQnA) (Songs at the end are for this chapter, starting at ‘comfort crowd’.

~~~

Betty hears a raucous laugh, as she climbs the steps to JB and Jughead’s place, and the murmur of conversation. She juggles the pie she held in one hand and the bottle of wine held under her arm to open the door.

“Betty!” JB yelled, jumping up to take the pie from her hands, grinning widely. 

“Happy birthday, JB.” She offers a one armed hug, handing over the wine with a neat pink bow tied to the neck. 

Thanking her, JB leaves for the kitchen. Betty scanned the room, noting the various Serpents, scattered and chattering. Some eyed her curiously, others seemed to ignore her altogether. Rubbing her hands together, she searched for Jughead, but was interrupted when JB returned, elbowing her side. “He’s in his room. Don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you go off to find him.”

Betty blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her and Jughead had been..._ together,_ for almost four months, but she still felt shy about it, at times, around JB. The girl in question, however, seemed to have no qualms about them, and it was reassuring, knowing JB didn’t find it an infringement on their friendship.

Because, they _were_ friends, truly. At first, JB had been an enigma, and then, someone younger whom she had wanted to coach and look after. As time progressed, and JB showed how strong, how resilient she was, Betty had begun to go to her to lean on, and they’d started to feel more like equals, more like friends. 

So, Betty smiled at her friend coyly, before heading down the hallway, in search of her… whatever Jughead was. The truth was, they hadn’t talked about it, the _label_, so Betty had just… avoided it. 

When she knocked on the door, she heard voices inside. Curious, she opened the door, finding Jughead sitting cross legged on his floor, across from a petite woman with vibrant pink hair and a heavy leather jacket across her shoulders. They’d been deep in conversation, and it pauses, when Betty enters.

“Betty,” Jughead greets, smiling gently. 

“Hey, uh - I didn’t mean to… interrupt,” she replies, looking between the two, waiting for an introduction. 

Waiting, apparently, in vain. 

The girl stands, eyeing Betty with an assessing look. “Huh. Not what I expected,” the girl says, before turning over her shoulder and saying goodbye to Jughead, giving Betty a nod and leaving. 

_Weird._

Jughead stands, and places a kiss on her forehead in greeting. “Hey,” he says, soft, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

The knot in her stomach loosens, and she melts, slightly. “Who was that?” she asks, nodding her head in the direction of the door. 

“Oh, uh - nobody, really,” he says, but his eyes cast downward, away from her, “did you want…?” He gestures to the joint he’d been rolling, placed on the edge of an ashtray on the floor, in the middle of where him and the woman had been sitting. She notes the other crushed ends of smoked joints, piling up in the tray, and shakes her head. 

“No, thanks.”

He nods, scratching his nose, adjusting his beanie. “You okay?”

She bites her lip, feeling like he’s redirecting her attention, like there’s something she’s missing. She considers pushing it, but recognizes the look in his eye. Like there’s something vulnerable he’s trying to protect. So, she drops it. Clearing her throat, she nods. “Yeah, fine. Just - long day.”

He leads her to his bed, sitting down, and she sits beside him, curling into his side. “Polly, again?”

She sighs, resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. “Of course. She had another meltdown about catering. Tried, _again_, to convince me to do it all.” Because, of course that’s what she wanted to do during her niece and nephew’s birthday party - work. _For free. _The memory of their argument tugged at her and she blew out a breath, trying to ease her frustration. “Anyway, how have things been here?”

Jughead pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, index finger tracing her jaw so that she lifts her head to look at him. He traces circles with his thumb over her shoulder, grounding her, and it’s the calmest she’s felt all day. “JB was a little vague about the guest list, for tonight.” He shifts, pausing. “I’ve just been in here, mostly.”

She shrugs his arm from her shoulder, standing. “Okay, well, we are _not_ spending your sister’s birthday hiding in here,” she chides, tugging on his arm and pulling him up. “C’mon.”

He resists, barely, but gives in, Betty notes with no small amount of smugness, when she kisses him. She captures his mouth, deep and slow, tugging him forward, and he follows first her mouth, and then her, out the door. She smirks, wiping some of her chapstick from his mouth. “It’s just a party, Juggie.” He rolls his eyes, but he follows her without complaint, and it feels like a win. 

The party is in full swing, small groups of people gathered together, all clad in Serpent jackets, all swigging on something. She feels distinctly visible, in her yellow wrap dress, and she quells the desire to tug at her hem. She feels Jughead at her back, a gentle hand resting on her waist, and her shoulders relax a little. 

“You want anything to drink?” He leans down to ask, mouth almost on her ear, and she shivers. 

Shaking her head, she leans up on her toes, shouting over the sound of the crowd and music. “No, thanks, I’m driving.”

“Oh,” he replies, face falling, before his expression returned to normal. She raised a brow in question, capturing his gaze.

Shrugging, he leans into her space even more, both arms wrapping around her waist, as if he could cocoon them both away within the crowded room. “I just thought that you might be staying over tonight.”

She doesn’t stay at his place. Well, she never has, not since they became… what they are. In fact, despite the amount of time they spent together, they really didn’t sleep together all that often. Mostly, because the most recent time they had, she’d woken to him curled up on her bedroom floor in the morning, shivering and miserable. Since, he’d been cagey about sleeping around her, and she’d let it be, knowing it was a sensitive subject. That he was offering tonight…

“Sure,” she replied quickly, “I mean, I’d love to.”

He smiled, bare-faced and open, and her stomach swooped in response.

A throat cleared from behind her, breaking both her and Jughead’s gaze from each other, both swivelling toward the noise.

“Jones.” A tall man, who couldn’t be older than her, addressed Jughead, eyes drifting toward Betty, then back up. She shifted on her feet, discomfort gliding over her once again. 

“Sweet Pea,” Jughead responded, tone measuring. Betty nearly rolled her eyes. The names of the people she’d heard in this town were ludicrous. She managed to refrain from open laughter, but she could tell Jughead had seen the amusement on her face, and she tried to control her expression as best she could.

“This the Northside chick?” Sweet Pea says, gesturing at her with the neck of his beer. Something clouds Jughead’s expression, and he scoffs.

“This is _Betty_,” Jughead says, something firm in his tone. 

Desperate to break the tension, and well aware she’d been cast by the Serpents as an outsider, she tries to push through it in her usual way. “Hi,” she greets him, voice saccharine. “Nice to meet you,” she says, although she’s not exactly sure it is nice to meet him at all.

The man nods, blinking in clear confusion at her tone. “Yeah, uh... sure.”

A few other Serpents joined them, some as stand-offish as Sweet Pea, others a little more friendly toward her. Eventually, when all the introductions had been made, she finally feels Jughead loosen his grip on her. His shoulders dropped, his face relaxed. She realised, then, that he’d been worried about her.

It’s impossibly sweet, and all she really wants is to drag him back to his room and kiss him again and again.

Of course, then, the girl from earlier joins their conversation, eyeing Betty with intensity. Knowing now that if she wants to get anywhere with this girl she’ll have to make the first move, Betty shoved her hand in front of her, going for a handshake. “I’m Betty,” she says, pointedly. 

The woman raised her brow in consideration, but took her hand. “Toni,” she replied. “So. You’re Jug’s new girl, huh.” A sly smile crept onto Toni’s face, and Betty felt herself flush, ducking her head. “Shit, Jug, you didn’t tell me she was this adorable,” Toni said, but her tone is light, and what could have felt like mocking felt more… ice-breaking. Betty smiled, looking up at Jughead, who had the expression of a deer in headlights. Clearing his throat, he tugged at his beanie, looking away. 

Toni leaned in, then, capturing Betty’s full attention. “Let’s get you a drink.” She grabbed Betty’s arm, pulling her toward the kitchen. She went readily, a little disconcerted by the swift shifting of mood that had been surrounding her throughout the night, but trying to adapt. Tossing her candy floss hair over her shoulder, Toni assembled ingredients from around the kitchen, like she knew the place intimately, and Betty wondered, again, just _who_ she was to Jughead. “I’m a bartender, just trust me, okay?” Toni said, apparently misreading Betty’s silence as distrust. 

She shakes her head, filing her questions away for later. “ So, do you work at the Whyte Wyrm?” Betty asks, having gathered that that seemed to be the main form of Serpent employment. 

“I did, when I started. I work at a club in Seaside now, I’m just at the Wyrm some nights during the week.”

Betty watches as she mixes their drinks, crushing lime and mint, shaking ice, hands moving quickly and proficiently. Finally, a drink is placed in her hands, a little straw sitting on the edge. The girls said cheers and clinked their glasses, sipping on their drinks.

“This is really good,” Betty compliments, taking another sip.

Toni shrugs, smile curving mischievously. “So, how did you get Jughead to leave his room? I was definitely expecting him to be playing the hermit all night, as usual.”

Thinking of how simple it had been really, to convince him, she just shrugged in response. “A little gentle persuasion, I guess?”

“Huh.” Toni looked her up and down, like she’s a puzzle, and her words from earlier tumble across Betty’s brain.

“What did you mean, before, when you said I wasn’t what you expected?”

Toni freezes, drink halfway to her mouth, and bites her lip. “I just meant… I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, you’re just like… _pretty_.”

“What does _that _mean?” she asks, not understanding enough to take any offence.

“Look, I’ve been friends with Jug since we were kids, and when I found out he had a girl I guess I just pictured… I don’t know. Something different,” Toni pauses, “it was stupid. Seriously - ignore me. I don’t know what I'm talking about, obviously.”

Toni places a hand on her arm, eyes imploring. And Betty, she gets it. If people who knew her from New York met Jughead, they’d probably say the same thing. Still, it leaves a mark, a subtle reminder of their contrasts. She pushes that thought down as soon as it comes, and smiles at Toni, as open as she can.

She nods, letting Toni off the hook, and the woman relaxes, an expression of gratitude there. 

“Everything okay in here?” Jughead rounds the door of the kitchen, arms folded, tension in his face again.

Toni rolls her eyes. “_Relax_, I was just making us drinks.”

He and Toni share a look, one Betty can’t quite interpret, before he nods, grabbing a beer from the fridge. 

The music changes from EDM to older hiphop, then, and Toni grins widely as the opening notes of _No Diggity_ blares from the speakers.

She takes Betty’s drink from her and places it beside her own on the bench, grabbing hold of both her hands and leaning forward to talk in her ear, “I love this song. Come on, dance with me?”

Betty grabs her drink from the bench and knocks it back, thrilling in the shocked look on Jughead’s face and the impressed whistle from Toni. “Sure,” she acquiesced, following after Toni. The house was packed, by that point, and they pushed through the crowds of people, eventually finding JB dancing in the middle of the room, and joining her.

Despite her apprehension about all the new people, she manages to lose herself in the music, moving her hips, intertwining her hands with Toni, and then JB, as the three danced together, swaying in time to the music.

The song changed, to another one she recognised, and she stayed there, dancing and singing along, and it’s... _fun_. By the third song, she can feel sweat beading at her hairline, knows her hair is messy and her chest red, but she doesn’t care. She feels reckless, and carefree. 

_Notorious Thugs _plays and she moves her body in time with the beat, eyes closed and leaning her head back. She’s reminded of summers in New York, the few and far between parties she had attended, how it had felt to hold some anonymity among the crowd, to be able to let go for a few moments, losing herself to the music. 

Eventually, she feels a familiar arm snake around her waist, a familiar body at her back. She leaned her head on his shoulder, looking up at him, grinning. “Juggie,” she yells, unable to hear herself over the music.

His arms curl around her, and she feels him swaying, out of time, like he’s trying to dance with her but not yet committing to it. She giggles, hiding her face in the collar of his jacket, before turning in his arms and linking her own over his shoulders, moving him so he sways along with her to the beat. He smiles sheepishly, clearly uncomfortable, but he’s doing it anyway, and she’s _elated_.

They spend the rest of the night like that, occasionally leaving the dance floor for drinks, and she meets more Serpents. They seem to relax around her, bringing her into the fold, and she calms in return. 

It’s not until the early hours of the morning they collapse into Jughead’s bed, buzzed from the alcohol and the dancing and the people, and it’s like she can’t keep her hands off him, like all she wants suddenly is to be as close as they can get. 

They hadn’t, yet, though. They hadn’t been as close as they could be. And Betty _wants_, but she’s leaving it up to him, letting him set the pace.

So she kisses him, sucking on his lower lip in that way that makes him groan, kissing down his neck, pushing his jacket and shirt off, tracing the muscles of his arms, his chest. He shudders beneath her touch, and it sends a thrill through her. Climbing into his lap, she grinds down, and he rolls his hips up to meet her. His cock rubbed at her clit through the layers of their clothing, friction dulled and obscured, and she releases a broken moan, overwhelmed completely.

He stills her hips, flipping them, so she’s on her back, arms pinned above her head. He kisses her like he means it, like he needs it, and she thrusts her hips up, asking, but he holds himself above her, making her wait.

She whines, unashamed, and disentangles her mouth from his. “Don’t tease me,” she pants, and her voice is wrecked already, with want and from overuse all night. His gaze darkens, and he swallows, a small sound escaping from the back of his throat. Taking his distraction as a win, she rolls them again, so her legs wrap over his waist, and she pins him down, grinning widely. She kisses down his chest, moving her body downward, sucking at his hips, running her fingers through the dark trail of hair above the waist of his jeans. Looking up at him in question, he nods, quickly, breath leaving him in quick bursts as his chest rises and falls in a rapid pace. 

Pulling his jeans off, she rubs at him over his boxers, running her lips over him through the material, before sucking at him, making him wet. His hands grip her shoulders, loosely, like he’s concentrating on not holding on too tight.

She releases him, and he lets out a whine that runs through her whole body, making her want to just climb him and fuck him into the mattress. Instead, she grabs one of his hands, placing it on her head. “Pull my hair, if you want. It’s okay.” She licks a long stripe up his length, making his legs twitch. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

He huffs a breath through his nose, choking slightly. “_Fuck,_ Betty,” he moans, and she pushes his boxers down in response, admiring his length and the wet stripe of pre-come dripping from him. Smirking, confident, she sucks on the tip, stroking her hand up his thigh and bringing it up to stroke his balls, feeling them tighten under her hands as she sucks harder.

Above her, Jughead is talking. Usually, he’s fairly quiet, but he lets out a steady stream of _“holy shit,”_ and_ “fucking Christ,” _and it spurs her on, wanting more of him, more of those sounds. She takes him deeper, slowly, and he clings to the back of her head. Not pushing, not yet, but his fists clench in her hair, and she places an arm over his hips, holding him down as she sucks more of him and his hips start thrusting upward. Hollowing her cheeks, she bobs up and down, and he swears, loudly, above her.

“Fuck, fuck, Betty,” he’s not even trying to be quiet, voice echoing loudly through the room, and she feels wild with it. She rubs herself aimlessly on the mattress, desperate to get off, but it’s no use, and she refocuses.

She uses her hand where she can’t get her mouth, unable to take him to the back of her throat, but she keeps a steady rhythm, tightening her fist on every down stroke, making him thrust up and groan heavily. 

Glancing up, she watches his face, the way he watches her, and feels nothing but desired, completely. It’s heady, the power she feels, and it makes her moan, makes her suck harder, lower. Soon, he’s tugging at her hair, pushing at her shoulders. “Betty, _fuck_, Betty, I’m—“ but she knows, knows from the quiver of his stomach muscles, the twitch in his thigh, the way his moans get more desperate. He’s on the edge, right _there_, and she wants to push him over. She scrapes, gently, with her teeth against his length, then licks over the same spot before taking him as far down as she can, stroking his length and using her other hand to stroke down, under his cock, lower, teasing at his balls and that sensitive spot behind them. Trying to over-stimulate him, make it so he can’t feel or think about anything but her, and them, and this.

Soon, he’s thrusting into her mouth faster and faster, eyes clenched shut, and he gives a short, sharp shout as he comes on her tongue, bitter and salty. She swallows him down, moaning, and he holds her head, stroking, as she follows him through his orgasm. 

Breathing heavy, he pulls her up, a dazed look on his face. “_Fuck,_” is all he says. She wipes at the sides of her mouth, feeling thrilled and heated and _hot,_ in a way she wasn’t used to. He swears, again, under his breath, before kissing her. He groans at the taste of himself on her lips, at the reminder, and it makes her clench her legs together, in need of touch. Noticing, he pulls away, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “What do you want?” he asks, voice wrought and deep. She shivers.

“Anything, you,” she whispers, her own voice wasted, “just you,” she repeats.

He nods, and his hands roam over her, pulling her underwear off, stroking her ass, her thighs. When he strokes up her heat, so close but not close enough to where she really needs him, she clenches her legs together, whining in a guttural tone, and she begs. 

“Please, please, Jug.” She’s lost, all composure gone, and she’s filled with nothing but pure need.

Abiding, he traces his thumb over her clit, and her head falls back in relief, hips thrusting against him. His index and middle fingers edge at her entrance, breaching, pushing in as he continues a steady rhythm on her clit. She thrusts down, so he enters her, deeper, and she moans softly, broken.

He fucks into her, curling his fingers upward, never breaking the pace. She meets every thrust of his hand, grinding against him, frenzied.

She’s so close, so near, her arms cling around him as he drives into her, the creak of the mattress beneath them a steady sound. She feels her whole body flush with overpowering heat, her muscles tense in her thighs, her stomach, and her feet flatten against the mattress, toes curling inward. Head thrown back, she comes.

But he doesn’t let up, easing the pressure on her clit but still driving into her, over and over. It’s more than overwhelming, she feels out of her mind with it, the oversensitivity overpowered by continued stimulation, and soon the sensation of pure euphoria approaches again, fast and without warning.

She clenches around him, eyes rolling back, as waves of pleasure roll through her. She feels her mouth open, frozen in a quiet scream, as she comes _again_. 

Finally, finally, the tension drops, and he eases out of her, gently, slowly. 

When she opens her eyes, he’s looking at her, gaze penetrating and tender. She feels broken open with it. 

Curling into him, she kisses him softly, without intent, just resting her mouth on his. He strokes her back, her legs. Keeps touching her, keeps her grounded. 

Nobody had ever made her feel so _looked after_, in bed, before. The way his attention honed in on her, the way he held her after. It made something inside her chest open up, strengthen, and make more room for him.

They lay quiet, after. Resting. It’s comfortable, it always is, when it’s just them. 

Eventually, they move, and she throws on his t shirt and he pulls a new pair of boxers on. She borrows mouthwash, while he brushes his teeth. The party has quietened down, the last of the stragglers drifting away, and Betty collapses beside Jughead in his bed, exhausted and spent. 

They lay awake in the darkness, for a little while, curled together. 

“Juggie,” Betty starts, voice tentative.

He makes a noise of question, responding. 

“What were you and Toni talking about, when I arrived? Who is she? You know, to you…?”

There’s silence, and Jughead tightens his grip on her waist, holding her closer. 

He talks about his first day at Southside High, and how Toni had been his first friend on the Southside. He gets quiet, when he talks about how him and Toni had started hooking up during their senior year, repeating that they were never really more than friends with benefits, that it hadn’t meant anything, until Betty’s interrupting him, exasperated.

“Jug. It’s fine, I get it. You were teenagers,” she reassures him, because he clearly thought she would somehow be upset over a few hookups over a decade ago. Which... was sweet, but. Ridiculous.

He huffed, nodding, before he continued.

Eventually, he gets to Toni’s relationship with Cheryl Blossom, and a conversation from all those months before returns to the forefront of her memory, and it clicks into place. The missing puzzle piece, the person he had said he needed to protect, back then.

Something, now, meant he didn’t feel he had to anymore. 

She leaned up on an elbow, eyes just making out his face in the darkness. “You didn’t want to tell me, before,” she states, hedging. 

Breath leaves him, and he strokes a hand over his face, before responding. “She came clean, to my dad. That’s why she was in here. She was telling me.”

Betty’s eyes widen. “What did your dad do?”

Jughead sits up, leaning against the wall. “Nothing, yet. But he said it all had to be aired out, though. That all the Serpents would have to vote on it. What to do,” he explained, voice careful.

Something lodged in Betty’s throat, as she grasped what he meant.

“So… what…? I mean. They wouldn’t. _You_ wouldn’t… hurt. Her. Right?”

He’s quiet and for a moment it throws her. He shakes his head, at first, before responding. “No, I… I’m not going to let anything happen. Neither will my dad,” he replied, cautious, eyes flicking between her and down at his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

She exhales, pushing into his space. “She seemed so… carefree, tonight.”

Jughead snorts. “She was kinda messed up, before you arrived. I think she was just excited to meet you, though.”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged, something shy coiling around him. “_Jug_?” she questioned.

Embarrassment clouded his tone, small and sweet, and he spoke with his eyes trained on her shoulder, not reaching her eyes. “I guess I’ve just… talked about you, and she was… interested, you know.”

He clears his throat, glancing up at her before looking back down. “I’ve never really had a…” he stops, looking up at her, “_girlfriend, _before, so.”

She holds her breath, a wide smile falling over her features. Her heart beats faster, giddy, she crawls over him, voice soft. “Girlfriend, huh?”

His face goes serious, reading her, and she bumps his nose with her own, nodding in a small gesture.

He swallows, grasping her hips. “If that’s what… I mean, only if you…” he clarifies, uncertain, and she smiles even wider.

“Jughead. Of course. _Of course,_” she replies, imploring.

He grins, then, and when their mouths meet, she can still feel him smiling as they kiss, their teeth clashing because of it, like he can’t help it. 

~

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: sex after the consumption of alcohol. Everything is absolutely consensual, because neither party is intoxicated, both are capable of consent. If any sexual activity after consumption of alcohol is uncomfortable for you to read, however, I’d suggest clicking out. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, I would love to hear your thoughts. I am working on a longer coda at the moment, but this particular scene was sticking with me and I wanted to write it. I guess I just can’t help dragging Jughead to parties.
> 
> Chapter title from Conan Gray’s ‘Comfort Crowd’.
> 
> Also, if you like, you can find me on tumblr now at ohbutiwaswildonce :)


End file.
